A/N: I don't own these people, if I did I would treat them much nicer.
Sometimes Rumplestiltskin sees Belle, despite the fact that she is dead.
He sees her reading in the Great Hall. He sees her making tea. He sees her smiling at him the way she did just before the kiss – that damned kiss – that ruined everything.
Sometimes he ignores her. He tells himself she's gone, she's never coming back, you're just imagining things. Other times he talks to her as if she never left, never died.
"You read too many books, dearie," he mutters at the Belle he sees in the Great Hall. "You'll never get your work done at this rate."
There's that smile as his hallucination replies, "I've already finished my work for today."
Rumplestiltskin huffs and continues on his way.
When he pauses to gaze at the cup on the pedestal, he hears her sigh behind him.
"You really love that cup, don't you?"
"Not the cup, dearie," he responds softly.
Sometimes he begs her forgiveness, apologizes over and over for throwing her out, throwing away her love. His hands shake and tears fill his eyes as he pleads for her to say she forgives him. He tells the visions of Belle how much he loves her, that he'll always love her, that he needs her.
"Belle," he whispers, voice trembling. "Can I ever make it up to you? I love you so much, I'm sorry I couldn't see that you felt it, truly. Can you forgive me, Belle? Please say you forgive me."
His visions never absolve him, merely gaze upon him in silent sympathy.
Rumplestiltskin throws himself into his mission to return to his son, hoping to drive out thoughts and apparitions of Belle. The only way for him to have any sort of happy ending now is to find Baelfire. He might not have True Love, but he can have his son.
"I will find you, Bae," he tells himself.
His Belle hallucination just smiles.